cubanseapower (cubanseapower) wrote in writingcritic,
cubanseapower
cubanseapower
writingcritic

The next session.

So I decided to try writing in a different style, yet keep it in first person. Just because I like first. This is a try at giving Finch a more distinctive voice. Please tell me your opinions on in and what I should or shouldn't approve on. Thank you. :D

We’re speeding down streets. I almost hit a car. And then another one, then another one. The hellhounds are still on my trail. Fuck.

Franco’s sitting next to me and starts bitching.
     
“Finch, this is all your fault!”

“You’re the one that stood there doing jack shit!”

“Well maybe if you weren’t so obvious and got us caught, I would’ve acted!”

I stub out everything else he says. Now’s not the time to go apeshit on him. Not when the cops are still trying to pinch us.

I turn and speed down Larkspur St. It starts raining and all of it starts pouring into our Jeep.

Never mind the rain. Keep driving.

And then it happens. Then I see it. I see her.

 

Something black in the road, lying in the middle of the street. Vague. Not moving.

Franco asks me if it’s a girl. I squint. Looks like a girl.

I stop the car and we get out. Franco’s the first to get to her. Then it’s my turn.

It’s a girl. Looks about fifteen, maybe sixteen. Long wavy black hair. Pretty thick. Wearing a black sweatshirt that’s about four sizes too big for her. Any shorts? Don’t want to find out. Face covered with dirt here and there. Purple bruises verging on black underneath her eyes. Beaten?

We poke at her with our feet. No budge. Franco does his job.

He gets down onto his knees and checks to make sure if the chick’s still breathing.

“She’s a breather.”

Damn.

“What should we do?”

“I don’t know.”

“I think we should take her.”

What the fuck did he just say?

 

My mouth’s ajar. I’m soaked in rain and can’t believe what Franco just said.

“You kidding me?”

Sirens coming closer. The police.

“The cops are catching up. We have to go.”

“Finch! I’m being dead serious! We can’t leave this girl in the middle of the road. Look at her.”

I do. I look at her. He’s right.

“She needs to be taken care of.”

I’m too freaked to say what I’m really thinking in my head.

“Great! That’s nice! But we aren’t those people! Now hurry up and get on your damn feet! We need to get out of here!”

“No! I’m not leaving here without her! Now we get out of here and take her with us or we wait here for the cops and get caught. At least that way I’ll know she’s going to be safe.”

I can’t believe the shit I’m being put into. When does Franco think he can start making the fucking rules?

 

I think. If I take this chick and let her crash with us until she gets better, I’ll let her go in a few days. But if Franco acts like a momma’s boy and the cops pinch us, who know when we’ll get out of the slammer.

The cops are just down the road.

“Fuck it! Hurry the hell up and get in the damn jeep with the chick!”

 

We get to our crib, the cops are lost - problems solved. Except for the chick.

It’s me that gives up my bed for the girl that night. I sleep in the living room on our crappy stained couch. Smells like the inside of a fake leg. Morning comes.

I wake up and check on Franco. Sound asleep. I think of what happened yesterday. Bitch.

Now it’s the girl’s turn.

I go to my room and see her sleeping. A small girl wrapped in my own covers. Like a baby in ecstasy.

I don’t know why but I tuck her in more. Then it happens. She wakes up.

 

I see her eyes looking right into mine. I notice something. Heterochromatic.

Left eye green, like mine. Right eye brown, like Franco’s. At first I think they’re beautiful.

Then her fucking fist gets up in my face. Next thing I know I’m on the ground and the bitch’s running out of my room.

My nose hurts a lot. I touch it. Blood. The little bitch made me bleed.

I get up and Franco runs into my room with his hair looking like he just had wild sex.

“What happened?”

“I think the pet we brought home needs a cage.”

“What?”

Asshat.

“The chick went psycho and made me bleed.”

“Where is she?”

“She ran out a few seconds ago.”

Franco runs out to the living room like he’s just done acid. I figure I try to let him be the man for once. After all, what’s going to happen when I’m gone?

I go to the bathroom and rinse off. I walk over to the living room. Franco’s trying to calm her down with his hands held out in front of him while the chick has a glass cup in her hand. We’re using paper from now on.

 

“Calm down. We’re not going to hurt you.”

I’m not too sure about that. The bitch made me bleed.

But the chick’s not buying it. She breaks the glass cup on the counter. Starts using it as a weapon of defense. There’s shards everywhere in the kitchen. Great.

“Put the cup down.”

Bitch isn’t listening. Franco starts walking closer and she freaks. I’m growing more and more fond of the cage idea. We could just keep her in there and feed her apples everyday.

“Put the cup down.”

“Where am I!”

A bit frisky there.

“We’ll get to that later. But I need to know this. Do you know who you are?”

She’s silent.

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